


(I Can't) Fix You

by orphan_account



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Dwarf & Hobbit Cultural Differences, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Mpreg, Postpartum Depression, Starvation, not a happy fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-18
Updated: 2016-06-18
Packaged: 2018-07-15 18:59:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,080
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7234663
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"It is an occurrence amongst hobbits, " Gandalf explains gravely, " It can be triggered by stress, by loneliness, by many things..."</p><p>"Ay, you said his father had something similar. How did he recuperate?"</p><p>The wizard paused for a long while at Oin's question, " He didn't."</p>
            </blockquote>





	(I Can't) Fix You

The company directs him with solemn looks when he finally wakes, Bilbo having clammed up as soon as the king had fallen in a dead faint. When he refused to answer a single question posed by the other dwarrow, looking all the more pale as they pressed on about when, how, and the like, Balin explained that they had let him wander off to perhaps recover from the excitement of the company. Bofur had followed the hobbit, unable to accept that they were letting a pregnant burglar off on his own but kept a safe distance. Desperate, it did not take Thorin long to find them, seeing Bilbo staring at a dusty suit of armor in the armory like it had all the answers to the world's problems. Bofur has sat a safe distance away but slinks away when Thorin appears. "Is it true?"

Bilbo jumps and in the end won't look him in the eye, " Your majesty-"

"Do not- " the king winces, " I am not only undeserving but...I cannot bare such formality, when so much has happened between us. Please tell me, ghivashel. Are you?"

Before Thorin even touches Bilbo, he knows. The hobbit allows him to pull open his coat, unbutton his shirt and there the truth lies. The pale and goose-pimpled skin, which was formerly a golden brown from days spent smoking on a garden bench, curved outward just slightly where the rest pulled tight over ribs, sternum and hipbones. Bilbo had become thin from their perils and yet a roundness remained in the area near his bellybutton, unnatural given the gauntness of his face and limbs. Thorin swallowed, guilty. It wasn't clear how much damage he'd already done to his unborn child, only that Bilbo did not look healthy so he could only assume the same went for the babe. If they had been conceived that night on the carrock, among the Manwe... Bilbo had been with child for two months, suffering in Mirkwood (the spiders and the barrels) and in Laketown (his illness) and now here (dragon and an approaching war), as Thorin foolishly threatened all who could be an ally to him. When Bilbo moves to self consciously close his shirt, Thorin moves in.

"Please, allow Oin to look at you, " the king says softly for he is all pleas now; he doesn't know if his behavior can be excused and he has become meek with regret.

"I, well, " Bilbo looks down as his feet, stepping back so he can redress, " He needn't do that. I am well enough."

"It is not enough, " Thorin says sternly, " You are carrying. We have offered you horrid conditions and if something has gone wrong- Allow him to check you. Meanwhile, I will meet with Bard and the elven King. We...I have many things to rectify."

Bilbo looks startled as he crosses his arms, hiding from view the slight bulge in his button up. He lacks the healthy glow that Dis had when carrying his nephews and Thorin vows to rectify that, feeling excitement at not only watching his One's body change but also in anticipation of the day that he would hold a dwarf babe in his arms for the first time in 75 years. And not any babe, but his own. Leaning forward to brush his forehead against Bilbo's, he can't help but slip his hand into the hobbit's coat to caress the bump once more. It bothers him that Bilbo does not immediately relax and, pained, he decides that he will fix that too.

"They will have everything, " Thorin says gently for he would not allow his child to know the pain of losing a parent if he could help it nor the pain of struggling for survival, " All that Erebor can offer. And so will you, my One."

"Thorin..."

Bilbo bites his lip and looks as if he needs to say something, and for a split second, Thorin thinks that the hobbit may be hiding something from him. He chases that thought away because it had to be lingering mistrust from the Arkenstone. Bilbo's solemnness could easily be explained by their living conditions and recent events. Guilty all the more, Thorin turns to face the way they came, seeing Bofur waiting for them just a few paces away. But still, the hobbit lingers, lips pursed.

"Yes, love?"

"It's just, hobbits...we..." Bilbo cuts off with a pinched look, a long pause starting to worry Thorin when he is met with a forced smile as his lover starts to walk away, " Nothing. Nevermind. I'll go see Oin now."

\--

When Dis entered his chambers, he curled around his son as much as he could with sore, distended abdominal muscles, and thick blankets spread across his lap. Luckily, Frodo was sleeping like a stone and didn't react to his father's alarm or to his aunt as she sat herself on the side of the bed. Her tone was cheerful as she inched closer without thought.

"As a veteran of raising dwarflings, I thought to check on you and the little one. "

Bilbo tried to smile, though his heart was still pounding. Usually, new parents were left alone after the birth of a fauntling but he was finding that Shire customs were not to be expected here. After all, Thorin had woken this morning like normal and resumed his kingly duties without more than a chaste kiss to Bilbo's lips and an affectionate look to the bundle in his arms. He had been attentive to the hobbit yesterday and the day before, when on Bilbo's 55th birthday they welcomed their son into the world. Bilbo didn't think he had upset his husband but it was unusual to be left alone for in the Shire; did the dwarf not feel the protective pull that Bilbo did? That all hobbits did?

"Frodo is very well, though he sleeps so much that I must wake him to get him to eat."

Dis chuckled, stroking the braids hanging from her chin thoughtfully with just a slight sadness to her tone, " Ah, then he takes after his late uncle, Frerin. I recall he slept so much that my mother feared he may be under a spell. But alas, he was only preparing for energetic mischief down the road."

Bilbo smiled tiredly, " Eru, have mercy. If being part Took wasn't enough!"

The princess reached over to run her knuckles over the soft blanket cradling her nephew; she didn't comment on the renewed stiffness in Bilbo's arms as he forced himself to allow the action. There was nothing to fear, he scolded himself; this was his son's aunt who had two children of her own. He need not fear harm coming to Frodo! And yet-

Dis finally pulled back, moving to stand, " So small...Ah, perhaps he will plump up soon. Will you be joining the company for lunch? They have been desperate to meet Frodo."

Cold sweat broke across Bilbo's brow. It was much too soon! His eyes darted fearfully, wishing Thorin would make an appearance but it was not to be. How could she even ask that when in the Shire...but he was not in the Shire, he thought and shame flooded him for his lack of understanding, especially when concern started to show on the dwarrowdam's face. He finally managed to speak, " I-in the Shire, extended family do not meet a babe until t-their 2nd week-" Even this seemed soon but Bilbo knew this was just hormones; the cautious behavior would wear off by then, of course. He refused to believe it wouldn't. He had nearly told Thorin his worries several times but the words always stuck behind his teeth; he wanted to share his fears in regards to his father but he couldn't. What would the Company think, that hobbits were weak of mind? That he was unfit or even, Yavanna forbid, a danger to his own child?

"They will be disappointed, but understanding. I will have the kitchens send food, then. On another note, shall I look for a nursemaid to help you? " 

"No, that's quite alright. Thorin and I will be able to handle him. Though, I had hoped your brother would take more of a leave."

Dis looked surprised, " Is that common with hobbits? Fathers taking leave to care for newborns?"

In response to Bilbo's hesitation, Dis jumped to explain, " It is uncommon here, is all. Unheard of, actually. Why, imagine Heptifili leaving court to change dirty nappies! Ha! No, dwarrow fathers intervene only when a child is deemed old enough to lift a sword. And with so much to be done to ensure Erebor's prosperity, I would recommend a nursemaid versus my clueless brother. Perhaps the famed Niatla, skilled midwife and child tender from the Blue Mountains, will make the journey-"

Bilbo tried to laugh off her offer as shame burned harsher in his empty gut. What Dis must think of him, voicing that he needed help caring for one little, sleepy fauntling when she had apparently raised two rambunctious dwarflings by herself. Just because it was tradition (well, recommended) didn't mean he had to have help. Yes, he thought stubbornly. Perhaps this was the best way to prove he was not like his father, " I am grateful but I will be just fine caring for Frodo."

Dis nodded after a moment, smiling like Kili as she departed, " I'm sure you will be. Rest well, brother in law. Mahal has blessed you a healthy son.

Thorin considered checking in on Bilbo many times during the day, especially when the hobbit didn't come down for lunch but he reasoned that his husband was tired and sore. He was understanding of this and when Dis recalled her visit, he was comforted enough that the height of his urgency to return to his chambers didn't hit until his last meeting with Ironhill representatives. It was late in the evening, just past dinner (they had been served in meeting) and he was just about racing back to Bilbo. He had tried to clear the next few days, when Dis shared with him a tidbit about hobbit fathers but Balin had only stared at him with exasperation before shaking his head in the negative.

The king had been working hard to fix things since the battle of the five armies, and had been, despite all the progress made, quite absent minded with Frodo's impending birth. With hobbit pregnancies lasting for nine months and dwarrow usually gestating for twelve, they had spent the last three months nervous. When labor started three days shy of Bilbo's eleventh month, everything seemed to cease; council meetings, reworking the forges, trade negotiations for winter, repair work... It would take time before he could take time off again, he knew and he tried not to feel upset about it; it was the price of restoring Erebor to a state that would make Frodo's childhood safe and magnificent. And he still had much to make up for in regards to him and Bilbo, and did that not hang on rebuilding his mountain aswell?

As he entered their shared chambers, he eyed the barely touched lunch tray by the foyer. Odd. Opening the bedroom door, he saw Bilbo seated on his side of the bed, Frodo cradled against his chest as he was fed. Thorin couldn't help but smile, heart swelling with joy at the sight. He neared carefully, though it appeared Bilbo noticed his approach instantly.

" How was your day?"

Thorin chuckled at the question, " Troublesome. I won't lie and claim I was not tempted to leave my duties to Fili and Balin so I could return to you."

Bilbo huffed, swaddling the now content but fussy babe; to his surprise, Thorin took his son wordlessly. Frodo looked even smaller in his other father's arms but Bilbo felt something loosening in his chest at the sight. He realized then he was feeling a bit peckish, well, ravenous to be honest. He also remembered he'd wanted to bathe and change clothes, comb his hair and maybe get a nap in since he hadn't sleep well the last two nights. It was like the sight of Thorin snapped him out of a haze. He'd been so distracted by Frodo that he hadn't had the chance to do much today...perhaps if Thorin was willing to just hold Frodo then- But this train of thought ended abruptly when when there was a knock on the door. He was pulling Frodo back into his arms in an instant, Thorin looking up in confusion before he called out sternly,

"Business?"

"Just a humble servant, your majesty, instructed to bring dinner."

"Ah, then enter."

The servant did as directed, carrying a dinner tray and taking the lunch tray wordlessly. Bilbo watched the unknown dwarf as if expecting him to attack, half paying attention to the indecipherable muttering Thorin was directing at their son and half noting escape routes just in case (his ring, which now hung around his neck, was also an option). He only relaxed a fraction of an inch when the dwarf left, Thorin standing with a sigh as he lifted the lid off of Bilbo's dinner.

"Come, eat. Then we shall retire for the night."

"I-I was going to give Frodo a bath."

Thorin blinked, lowering the lid once more, " Surely that can wait. Are you not feeling well? Would you prefer something a bit easier on the stomach?"

Bilbo shook his head; he had been hungry just a minute ago but he couldn't really convince himself to put Frodo down just yet. He had spent little time since his birth, if any, in his crib and Bilbo reasoned he was safer in his arms, especially if someone was to knock again- he blinked at Thorin's expectant look and his outstretched hands. He had missed something.

"I'll bathe him. Eat."

Bilbo took a step back, frowning as he rocked a squirming Frodo, " I'm sure the stew can wait."

Thorin huffed in annoyance, " It is by far more appetizing warm. And do you think me incapable of bathing an infant? Give him here!"

Bilbo relented, clarity returning a bit. He didn't have to be so protective, he realized, not with Thorin. Sitting down, he picked up his spoon, listening to the sounds of a bin being filled with water. He didn't dip the utensil into the lukewarm broth until he heard Thorin cooing happily at their three day old, this apparently being the cue he needed. He drank several gulps of water (had his throat been this parched a moment ago?) and two bites of hearty stew, hunger slowly coming back when he heard it.

He was in the washroom quick as lightning, slapping at Thorin's hands, " Too hard. You have to be gentle with him, gentle!"

Thorin scowled, " I was being perfectly gentle. Of course, he does not appreciate being washed just yet."

Bilbo sighed in annoyance, checking the squirming, whimpering fauntling; the water seemed the tiniest bit too warm but not enough to be a concern and the washcloth was soft enough, he guessed. Thorin had laid their son on a plush towel as he washed him with the cloth, something Bilbo easily took over. Seeing he wasn't needed, Thorin took his leave, grumbling under his breath about bossy hobbits. He returned with fresh clothing from the nursery (which was at this point just storage) before leaving them for good.

By the time Bilbo had finished, Frodo still mewling each time the washcloth touched his skin, Bilbo was exhausted. He barely had the energy to give himself a quick clean before he dressed Frodo and bundled up their laundry to be cleaned, one handedly. Exiting the washroom after some time, he found Thorin fast asleep on the bed. Shaking his head ruefully, Bilbo eyed the crib. It seemed...farther than he realized though he wondered if he didn't move... Maybe if he didn't fall completely asleep and didn't shift then it would be alright. He carefully laid on the bed, curling up against Thorin's warm back as he cradled their son carefully. It was then he couldn't take his eyes off the soft, pale features or the small bit of dark hair atop the dwobbit's head. To think they had made this, something so beautiful yet fragile. How easily Frodo could be taken from them, from Bilbo if he wasn't careful...he tried to calm his breathing, watching his son sleep and listening to his husband snore. 

He couldn't let that happen.

Hours passed and Bilbo managed not to doze off as his mind prepared him for the worst and perhaps the most unusual scenarios, never remembering the bowl of stew he'd left several feet away. 

\--  
The negotiations were not going well and if man power was not acquired from the the Ironhills within the month, then restoration of the East wing by winter coincided with less than 50% of their projected goals. As expected, Thorin wasn't exactly in the best of moods. He left their rooms early, biding an awake and nursing Bilbo goodbye or sending wistful looks to the nursery where he could hear the hobbit fumbling around. And when he returned in the evenings, his mind was always on going straight to bed, though he often spared his son and exhausted looking husband a brief kiss or caress. Occasionally, he was roused in the night but it was never to the cries of their newborn, only to the shushing performed by Bilbo who seemed to have better ears and faster reflexes. Thorin wanted to feel bad for not taking turns, as Dis had hinted that Bilbo expected but Thorin was a dwarf. Dwarrow did not take leaves, did not perform the same duties that birthing mothers or fathers did. In addition, he was a king under great stress.

He was sure Bilbo understood.

Frodo is 9 days old when Gandalf arrives. The wizard's face is alight as he is led to Thorin and Bilbo's chambers by Dwalin, since Thorin can't personally escort him. The warrior had volunteered as soon as he was escorted into the Great Hall, likely to escape the yelling and nitpicking currently going on in what was the 5th meeting held that day about the Ironhill dwarrow. He doesn't speak much as he's lead through corridors of stone, an excited smile pulling at his wrinkled face and lifting his long beard as Dwalin knocks twice, echoing, then calls out to Bilbo with uncertainty. Gandalf is surprised when the dwarf guard turns away as soon as the sound of rustling is heard from inside.

"You will not join us?"

Dwalin's emotions are carefully hidden, " The hobbit doesn't...appreciate company. Here's hoping he don't mind yours."

The wizard looked alarm but then his attention is being drawn to the frightened voice inquiring from the other side of the door. He clears his throat, identifying himself as cheerfully as he can as dread settles in his gut. He remembers the pain in Belladonna's eyes when she fought tooth and nail to help her husband overcome the affliction that struck him after Bilbo was born...she had called it Fixation, something that sometimes affected Baggins and Brandybuck hobbits, but surely Bilbo would not succumb as a Took? The door opened slowly, just a crack really, to reveal a pale cheek, unwashed curls and a cloudy blue eye surrounded by dark bags. For a split second, the wizard swore he was looking at Bungo Baggins in his last days. 

\--

The wizard breaks the silence, "Bilbo, can you recall the last time you ate?"

"He just ate, " Bilbo said distractedly, " Usually he naps after-"

"No, my dear boy. When was the last time *you* ate? Bathed? Slept?"

The former burglar gains a faraway look as he rocks Frodo, something that worries Gandalf to no end. Bilbo has remained standing (his slight swaying is certainly alarming) since he allowed his former travel companion entrance, suspicious and wide eyed. His thinness and paleness is alarming, and Gandalf wonders how no one has noticed or done something. Fixation as Belladonna had once named it, was not always easy to diagnose...or resolve, he tried to reason. Using his staff to stand from the low arm chair near the nursery door, he extends him arms, " Why not let me get a look at this faunt of yours. Lunch will be arriving, yes? You can rest while I tend to the little thing. Why, when you were months old, I enjoyed a fine lunch with you asleep in my lap, all the while!"

"I-I'm not sure if that's a good idea. He'll need sleep soon, you see, and-"

Gandalf raises an eyebrow, " Oh, and you think me incapable of handling a sleeping babe?"

"I-I'm not sure. Maybe this isn't the best time for a visit. Perhaps you can come round another time, when we're alittle more proper-"

"Bilbo Baggins, you will hand me that fauntling and dare you never insult me again with such mistrust!"

Bilbo pales, horrified with himself but he can't help but move farther away, away from Gandalf and his booming voice. Frodo is crying now but Gandalf follows him, his eyes sad though his lips are set in a stern frown. Bilbo's back hits the wall and he starts to panic but looking at the wizard, at his oldest friend...he can't help it, tears start falling down his cheeks as a sob wells up in his throat. He curls just a bit, shaking as Gandalf closes the distance and takes Frodo into his large, wrinkled hands. Bilbo lunges but misses, the tall figure returning to his chair with the young fauntling, ignoring Bilbo's distress. He immediately misses the weight and warmth from his child but there is a tinge of relief as well, and he can finally feel it: the exhaustion, the hunger and thirst, the shame. He can't deny it now. The Fixation...he was just like his father, allowing his protective instincts to go too far.

Frodo is quiet now, looking up at Gandalf in wonder. Bilbo bites his lips, trembling hands at his sides itching to take back what is his; he doesn't know what to do with himself without Frodo in his arms. He's so far away. What if Frodo is hungry or wet, what if he starts to cry again or someone comes in unexpectedly? What if...he catches himself on the edge of the crib to his left, blinking away dark spots. 

"Sit before you fall."

Gandalf's voice has not lost its edge but there's an element of exasperation; Bilbo stumbles forward, eyes never leaving his son as he all but falls onto the corner of the bed nearest to him. He has to fight to keep still, has to keep from from screaming at the magic wielder to return his son to him. This just makes it more clear, though acknowledgement doesn't mean he can stop it.

" I-I thought I could handle it." Bilbo sobs.

Gandalf's gaze softens, " I know, my dear boy. I know."

\--

Before Bilbo can take even a single bite, he makes himself sick on water. He chokes, gags and then spews back into the glass. The water comes back out his nose as well as his mouth and Gandalf feels an overwhelming wave of worry, especially when Bilbo's first instinct is to ask for his son back when he's recovered some. Gandalf doesn't agree and the hobbit continues to act as if this is a hostage situation, never fully aware of the obsessive behaviors despite his honest sobs. Bilbo still focuses on Frodo as if there is nothing else and if Gandalf hadn't known the other male his whole life, he doubted he'd have been allowed to hold the fauntling this long. But even still, Bilbo was losing patience.

After his reaction to the water, the former burglar gave up on lunch completely. And when Frodo begins to fuss, faster than Gandalf can blink, the babe is taken from him. Using a knit shawl, likely the work of Dori, a shaky Bilbo prepares to nurse. Gandalf frowns, wondering why Frodo would be hungry again so soon if he was fed just before he arrived but then he watches the two struggle. Frodo seems to suckle, content for a moment before he begins to whimper for more. When the babe is turned to the other side of his distressed father's chest, the same repeats. Gandalf really does need to fetch a healer because as much as Frodo looks cared for, he wonders about the nutritional content of Bilbo's milk, and also the reliability of supply. He suspects that maybe dehydration is playing a part in the young father's struggles and at last, the wizard stands with a hesitant look.

"Everything will be alright soon, in time. First things first, I need to speak to Oin-" Bilbo flinches, " Now, my dear hobbit, none of that. He can make sure Frodo is healthy, " he plays this card, sure it will work, especially when Bilbo focuses on him, " I will return post haste. Please, rest until we return."

He leaves at a slow pace, unsure of how to proceed. Yes, Oin needed to be reached but Thorin...he made a split decision, finding Dwalin posted down the hall. Perhaps the warrior was still avoiding the noisy Great Hall or perhaps he was concerned about their hobbit and his reaction to an unexpected visitor, and with good reason. Either way, it makes Gandalf's decision easier but when their foursome -Oin, Dwalin, Thorin and himself- return, something is off about the royal chambers.

Bilbo, and his son, are nowhere in sight.

\---

"Bungo, my sweet-"

"No, " the hobbit wheezed, clutching the squealing infant with terrified eyes, " It's fine, I've got him-"

"Love, can't you see he's hungry?"

The Baggins of Bag End lets out a shaky breath, " Yes, yes. H-hand me the bottle?"

Belladonna bit her lip, inching closer to extend the bottle of pumped milk. But this only worked against her because the emaciated figure clutching her son, their son, just pressed further into the corner like she was a threat. With no other choice, she knelt and let the bottle gently roll across the wooden floors. Her husband snatches it up and soon Bilbo's cries are stifled by the nipple of the bottle. She allows herself to relax for a split second before it happens, a look of pain crossing Bungo's face as he starts to slump...Bilbo starts to slide from his rail thin arms. She dives forward but it's too late.

***

Bilbo made a mistake, he realized, when the room spun and he no choice but to drop his pack lest he drop his fitfully sleeping son. He feels cold, then hot, then cold again as colors blend together in front of his eyes. The headache that has persisted since day four worsens and he thinks he would be sick, he not for sheer determination. He fights the nausea, the urge to lay down and shushes his son. He's doing what's best, he convinces himself. In his head, no one can be trusted. Not the company or the rest of the dwarves in the kingdom, not the elves or the humans...not even Gandalf or his beloved Thorin. 

But he doesn't have the strength to escape, he realizes and when he hears the distance approach of footfalls, of boots, all he can do is cling to Frodo and pull on the ring.

\---

If Dwalin hadn't accidentally kicked one of the bottles that had spilled out of the discarded pack on the floor, he was certain they never would have found their hobbit. But the way the bottle rolls, then stops, bounces slightly off open air...Bilbo yells out when hands grab at his shoulders and he does his best to defend himself with a babe in his arm. But in the end, they pin him, take the ring and take his son. At this point, nothing else to lose, he howls in rage until his mind falls into momentary darkness.

\---

"It is an occurrence amongst hobbits, " Gandalf explains gravely, " It can be triggered by stress, by loneliness, by many things. I am afraid it cannot be cured with just bed rest and a supplemental diet."

"Is there a recovery rate? Is it...?" Thorin's face is carefully blank. Had he not sworn to fix things? Had he not done all he could?

"Bilbo has always surprised me with his strength, " Gandalf confides, " But this...this is something even I couldn't foretell."

"Ay, you said his father had something similar? How did he recuperate?"

The wizard paused for a long while at Oin's question, " He didn't."

\---

"Papa?"

Bilbo blinked, having been lost in thought, lulled to near sleep by the sound of the fire crackling and the delicious warmth it offered. Stretching, he looked down at his young son, who had been curled up in front of the fire.

"Uncle Kili has a Uncle Fili and...Adad had Uncle Frerin and Auntie Dis...Why don't I have a...a sibling?"

Curious blue eyes looked up at him, unaware of the pain their inquiry caused Bilbo. The former burglar doesn't think he'll ever be able to share with his boy the struggles surrounding his birth, the way it had broken his relationship with Thorin in same ways, the truth that he struggled with this...fixation still to this day though seven years had come and gone. He could imagine the pain it would cause, the guilt that the company tried to hide, and really it wasn't proper to talk of such things to anyone, let alone his child. So, swallowing his emotions, he dug his blunt fingernails into the arms of his chair, forcing a smile that he hoped wouldn't accentuate the way his cheeks hollowed instead of dimpling healthily, like a hobbit's was supposed to. 

"Well, my boy, " His sad eyes unconsciously went to the empty armchair across from him -Thorin's. These days it took quite a bit to bring his husband away from his work, and even though it was brief and stoic time spent with Bilbo, he was grateful that Frodo received only love and doting gentleness. He finally said, "It is because we only ever needed one, sweet dwobbit for our family to be complete. "

Frodo's large round ears turned red as he tucked his small but hairy feet beneath him. Luckily, the embarrassingly sweet lie ended the conversation.


End file.
